Never A Burden
by Keara
Summary: OW Universe. My first Magnificent Seven story. Just a relatively short story. Ezra finds himself caught out in a storm. NOT SLASH. NO PAIRING.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Magnificent Seven, or any of its characters. I am making no money from this._

_Notes: This is my very first Magnificent Seven story. Forgive me if you don't think the characters are quite right._

_I am a longtime fan of the series. In fact, it was the very first fandom I ever read any fan fiction for. However, I didn't start writing fan fiction myself until years later, and although I was working on something for the series, I never managed to write a story for it._

_Now though, because I introduced my roommate and very best friend, Tenshi-Chan to the series (We watched both seasons over and over again for a month straight) I have been attacked by persistent muses who demand I write something. This is one of the results. I have a couple others, but I'd prefer to wait until they're done, or at least close to done before posting them. This story, for example, is very close to done. It's just a short little thing, and written purely for the purpose of tormenting Ezra a little._

_And yes, I followed the trend and used the name Chaucer for his horse. I wasn't going to initially, but apparently somewhere along the way I changed my mind._

_Last Note: The one thing that annoys me when I read, is when accents are written out when the characters speak and I have to decipher the words. Example: 'Mah' instead of 'My' or 'Mistah' instead of 'Mister'. So, Ezra's speech will not be written with an accent. You'll just have to use your imaginations for his lovely Southern drawl._

_On with the story._

* * *

**_Never A Burden_**

**_Part One_**

* * *

The storm came out of nowhere.

Well, that wasn't exactly true. There had been warning signs all morning. The sky had been dismal since dawn. Buck had even tried to convince him to stay behind in Eagle Bend and wait it out with him, but his offer had been conciliatory at best, considering his attentions had been diverted by the lovely Miss Emily and her ample assets. Ezra just wanted to get back to Four Corners and his own feather bed. He honestly thought he could make it before the worst of the storm.

How wrong he had been.

He had left Eagle Bend atrociously early, far earlier than he was used to waking. Dawn had barely broken when he'd saddled his horse and departed the dingy hamlet. Besides, it would be in his best interest to depart quickly; those local townsfolk hadn't been too happy with his good fortune at the gaming table. As soon as he'd left the table, he'd gone straight to the livery and gotten ready. Maybe he should have hidden out in his hotel room for the day, but Ezra was well-accustomed to the looks he had gotten from those sore losers and knew that physical violence was likely on their minds. A bit of rain was better in comparison. At least the storm wouldn't be out to get him personally.

He had been a little more than halfway home when the rain had begun. It had only been a light drizzle then, but had slowly gained in strength as the day continued. Rather than stop and seek shelter somewhere, he had decided to press on, thinking that he could still make it before it got too bad. He was nearly home; surely a few more hours in the rain wouldn't hurt.

Then the thunder and lightning began. The wind picked up, pelting him with a steady thrumming rain. He was only grateful that it was at his back. The storm around him grew and he quickly changed his mind about seeking out shelter. Only there was very little around that would protect both himself and his horse from the inclement weather. Not that he could see far in this abysmal weather.

Abruptly, a flash of lightning streaked the prematurely dark sky, splitting a tree just off of the trail he was traveling along. The suddenness of it startled his horse. Chaucer reared back, frightened. Between the wet and the wind, Ezra didn't stand a chance at holding on. He was unceremoniously tipped from his seat and found himself tumbling head over feet down an incline.

The ravine wasn't steep, but unfortunately it was rocky. A number of stones broke loose and followed his rapid decent, the heavier ones adding further injury as they connected with his already aching body. He finally came to a stop on his back, face up in a shallow stream of rapidly running water.

A myriad of pains quickly made themselves known to the stunned gambler. He sucked in a breath and regretted it as his ribs protested the effort. Everything seemed to hurt. His vision clouded, threatening to black out completely, but he managed to stave it off, taking slow careful breaths, forcing his eyes shut against the waves of hurt that encompassed his being.

He couldn't focus on any one sensation. There was a throb in his head, a sharp bite to it that told him he had most likely sustained some form of injury there. With all the rocks he was surprised that he hadn't split his skull clean open. He raised a tentative hand to touch his scalp, only to hiss out a breath as that simple movement delivered a flare of agony from his left shoulder. 'How wonderful, dislocated again,' he thought to himself. His left leg, from hip to foot was one overall discomfiture, a pounding hurt punctuated by spasms of needle-sharp stabs in the knee and ankle.

The majority of his injuries seemed to be on the left side of his body. That made sense, as that was the side of him that had first struck the earth. However, his right side had not gone unscathed. It was only that the pain on that side waned quicker, lingering in a dully throbbing ache that felt infinitesimal when compared to the rest of the damage caused by his fall.

The rain continued to patter down, thunder rumbling and lightning flashing in the dark sky. He knew he couldn't lie there all night. He needed to find some shelter somewhere, get warm, get dry and take care of himself. Ezra wasn't looking forward to moving though. The way his body already hurt, he didn't think it would get any better when he got up.

Carefully and slowly, he rolled to his right, propping his weight onto that arm. Sparks of white danced across his vision, his pained body protesting the movement vehemently. He fought back the urge to close his eyes and give himself over to the tempting darkness, knowing that to stay there would be risking his life.

He maneuvered himself upright and gingerly began to feel along his ribs, wary of the pain breathing caused. Nothing felt broken. That was good. If he could have, he would have released a sigh of relief, but that would have hurt too much. Instead, he moved his probing fingers to his left leg. Once again, he felt no breaks, but the pain in his knee and ankle were undeniable. He was hurt badly, perhaps not life-threatening, but bad enough that he'd be lucky if he could get up, let alone walk anywhere. That fact that his clothing was torn and dirty only added insult to injury.

Ezra fashioned a primitive sling from his shoulder holster. He'd abide Nathan's almost motherly intent to oversee the treatment of his injuries when he returned to Four Corners. For now, the best he could do was immobilize the arm. When he'd left Eagle Bend, all he'd wanted was to get back to town and to his own feather bed and that's still where he wanted to be. Knowing Nathan, it would be a struggle to get the man to see sense and let him rest in his own room instead of the healer's cozy little den above the livery stable. Ezra honestly didn't see the difference between doing his recuperating in one bed or the other, beside the unequivocal fact that his own was infinitely more comfortable.

Chaucer came down into the ravine after his fallen rider. The gelding flared his nostrils, snorted and focused his eyes and ears on Ezra. The gambler couldn't blame his generally dependable steed for his current predicament. He hadn't been dislodged due to errant behavior, but because of an involuntary reaction. He'd been startled by the lightning strike himself, if only for an instant before trying to keep from breaking his neck became his most pressing concern. He should have sought out shelter as soon as the weather had taken a turn for the worse. It had been foolhardy and dangerous, but he had been impatient to get home and now he was paying the price for it.

He curled his hand across his forehead, wincing as he touched a sore spot. He could feel swelling, and a break in the skin that oozed a flow of warm wetness. He knew blood when he felt it, despite the chill rain lashing down on him. However, he couldn't tell how bad it was by touch alone. All he knew was that it hurt something awful, it was bleeding steadily and he couldn't shake the persistent dizziness even though he was sitting relatively still.

Knowing he had to get up, he curled his right leg underneath his body. He found his hat not too far away and placed it atop his head, angling the brim away from the seeping wound. Using his right hand to grip onto a steady-looking rock, he slowly began to maneuver himself up, keeping his weight balanced only on his right side.

Moving was agony. Despite his attempts not to, he jostled his damaged leg, sending sharp spikes of pain lancing up the length of his body. He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, the world around him tilting alarmingly. He didn't want to vomit, but it was difficult to tamp down on the relfex. He managed, if only barely.

He moved despite his discomfort, steadfast in his intent to return home. His vision blurred, a dark fringe surrounding everything he saw. He hobbled forward, biting his lip against the cry bursting to escape him and caught up the reigns to his horse with an expansive wave because he couldn't be sure which of the two horses that he could see were real.

Now came the problem of mounting. With the injuries to his leg, he knew that he couldn't pull himself up in a normal fashion. So that meant he would have to improvise. He cast a look around, irritated by the lack of clarity in his vision, and the growing dizziness and nausea that such an activity produced.

Seeing his solution, he led Chaucer up along the sloping edge of the ravine to where the rocks were larger. He was already panting heavily by the time he reached them, struggling for breath when he climbed upon them, and fighting back cries of pain as he sat astride his horse. He leaned forward in the saddle, choking on air, black spots darkening his sight. His leg was on fire - his knee especially - his head throbbing violently.

He didn't have much further to go. And if he wasn't mistaken, then there were a few ranchers living out around the area. If he could make it to one of them, he'd be fine. He'd likely be able to coerce one of them into lending him a dry place to sleep for the night. If not a bed, then a floor and a blanket would do well enough. With that single goal in mind, he urged Chaucer into a slow walk. He couldn't bear to go any faster, even that slight jostling sent a cascade of pain through him. It was all he could do to remain upright in the saddle, to keep his damaged knee bent and boot properly in the stirrup despite the protestations of his ankle.

The rain continued to lash down on him, pelting at him ruthlessly. He didn't know how long he rode for, or even if he was going in the right direction anymore. His senses were askew, playing tricks on him, or failing him altogether, the pounding in his head disrupting his thoughts.

He thought he saw a light in the distance, so he went in that direction. After a time, it became clear that it was a house. Ezra only knew that he had to get to it. He couldn't seem to recall what had happened or why he was out in this miserable weather, but he knew that he was hurting. His memories were disjointed, the long ride from Eagle Bend interspersed with blank gaps that disconcerted him. Why couldn't he remember?

He rode straight up to the house. Looking down at the ground, he watched it swirl and twist in a dizzying manner, his focus wavering alarmingly. He contemplated how he could get down without doing himself further injury and couldn't think of a way. In desperation, he called out to the owner of the home, hoping to be heard above the din of the raging storm. His voice came out weak to his own ears. He tried again and this time reached out to bang his fist against one of the post supports of the porch. Unfortunately, his disorientation caused his last strike to miss. Unable to recover his balance quickly enough, he toppled over, falling in a heap to the muddy ground below.

Ezra couldn't hold back the cry of pain as every injury was inflamed anew. He dug his nails into the slick ground, curling in on himself as best as he could, never noticing as Chaucer took enough steps away from him so as not to accidentally trod on him. He barely even felt it when hands landed on him, didn't understand as he was guided to roll onto his back. He stared up at the faces looming over him, but couldn't make out features. He hoped they were going to help him.

* * *

_To Be Continued ..._


	2. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Magnificent Seven, or any of its characters. I am making no money from this._

_Notes: Nettie finds her quiet evening disturbed by an unexpected guest._

* * *

**_Never A Burden_**

**_Part Two_**

* * *

Nettie Wells was clearing away the dinner plates when she heard a banging out front. The storm outside had been raging all afternoon, dampening sounds, but she was sure that she could hear a man's voice in the din. "Casey, get the gun. I heard some banging on the porch, and I want you to be ready in case it's someone looking to cause trouble."

"Yes, Nettie!" Her young niece quickly did as she was told as Nettie grabbed her Spencer Carbine and checked to make sure it was loaded.

The older woman opened the door and stepped out into the storm. Even at her door the rain was hitting her, the wind throwing it her way. She saw a horse at the end of her porch, but no rider. Cautiously stepping closer to the rail, she leaned out over to get a better look. She blinked at the sight that met her.

"Oh, my Lord! Forget the gun, Casey and help me here." She set her rifle aside and rushed down the short set of stairs toward the man lying curled up on the ground. She wasn't always good with faces, but some details tended to stick out in her mind and no one in the area wore a jacket of such a bright color or fine material like a certain gambler from town. Ridiculous to wear something so completely unsuited to the climate, but the gambler persisted to do just that.

Ezra, that's what Vin Tanner had called him. She knew his reputation from the gossip in town. Gambler, conman, the sort of deceitful, immoral, criminal that was generally run out of town by the seven lawmen who protected them all. But she also remembered that he had helped her to keep her home, and for that she would remain grateful. The boy weren't no ranch hand, dressed in his fancy clothes with that shiny flask full of liquor, but he had come through when he was needed. And she wouldn't turn her back on him now when he was in need.

"Mr. Standish?" She called out, getting down on the ground next to him and pressing her hands to his back. "Ezra? Can you hear me?" The relentless rain soaked clean through her clothes in mere moments. This was no weather to be traveling in. What was he doing out here in this? Didn't he have any sense in that thick head of his?

A harsh groan was the only reply she received. Carefully, she rolled him over onto his back, noting the crude sling and the way he cradled his left arm close to his body. He'd apparently seen some trouble. He was hurt, but Nettie couldn't tell how badly without getting a closer look at him. His eyes, when they looked at her, seemed unfocused and distant, as if he wasn't really seeing her. She could see a deep cut on his forehead, just below his hairline, that could have contributed to his dazed state. It was oozing blood, the rainwater washing it away as it ran from the wound. That alone needed tending to soon, but she was sure there were more injuries to find. Either way, they had to get him inside, dry and warm.

"Get under his other arm. Help me get him up," she told her niece. She stayed on Ezra's left, wrapping her arms around his middle to avoid touching his injured limb.

As they got him to his feet, he cried out in pain and listed toward the right, pressing more of his weight on Casey. Another injury to worry about, Nettie realized, but nothing to be done about it out here in the pouring rain. Together, the two women struggled to help him indoors. He whimpered with each step, biting back louder cries whenever his weight landed on his left leg. Nettie didn't like causing him pain, but there wasn't any other way. They needed to get him into the house if they were to take care of him. The storm was too bad to go for help. She wouldn't risk sending Casey out to town. Ezra would just have to make due with her limited skills instead of Mr. Jackson's more talented hands.

The gambler was panting harshly as they dropped him into a chair. Nettie lifted off his hat - surprised that it had stayed on despite how precariously it had been perched on his head - and tossed it onto the table. She grabbed his chin and tilted his face up, hoping to meet his eyes. He blinked at her, slowly focusing on her. The stare that met hers was vacant. Thankfully, his pupils were even, so while she may have to worry over a minor concussion, she didn't have to deal with something potentially fatal.

"Don't you have better sense than to go out in a storm like that?" she asked him.

Blinking dully, it took him several moments to answer her. "Wasn't raining when I left Eagle Bend." He looked around, his brow furrowing in confusion. "How did I get here? And where am I, exactly?" He closed his eyes before Nettie could reply, his chin falling to touch his chest.

"Is he going to be okay?" Casey asked, nervously wringing her hands.

Nettie didn't have a good answer for her niece. Instead, she gently began to remove the sling from his left arm. She knew a dislocation when she saw one. Her husband had gotten a few over the years and with no competent healer nearby, it had often fallen to her to treat his ailments, and then Casey's as well when the girl had come to live with her. Nathan was a godsend to the area, but even now it was sometimes easier to do the tending herself, than to trek all the way out to Four Corners to get his help.

"Hold him steady," Nettie said, guiding Casey's hands to hold onto Ezra securely. She took a firm hold on the gambler's arm and paused only a moment to say, "This is going to hurt." Whether she was warning Casey or Ezra, she wasn't sure.

There was a sickening crunch as Nettie manipulated his arm to put his shoulder back in place. Ezra screamed, eyes opened wide now as he was brutally yanked back into consciousness. He would have fallen from the chair if not for Casey's hold on his bucking body. He settled quickly, biting at his bottom lip and shivering in cold and pain. His eyes remained open.

Nettie let out a sigh and set his limp hand over his lap. "Casey, get me some towels and a blanket and then go out and take care of his horse."

"Yes, Nettie," the girl said and hurried to do as told. Casey left the requested items in a heap nearby, then darted out the door into the lashing rain.

As soon as Casey was gone, Nettie went to work. She tugged loose the ribbon tie from around his neck. She dragged the water-sodden coat off of him, careful of his left shoulder. Next went the brocade vest. She was careful in removing the derringer rig from his arm, taking the same care with the remains of the shoulder holster he had taken apart for his sling. Both weapons were laid out on her table. She dropped his shirt onto the growing pile of wet clothing.

When she went to unbuckle his gun belt, his hand fell on top of hers. She looked up into his face, seeing a flush to his features. "Don't," he murmured, trying to push her hands away.

Nettie shook his hand off of hers, then went back to unbuckling his belt. "You don't got nothing I ain't never seen before," she said, putting the belt on the table with the rest of his weapons. "You need to get out of these wet clothes."

"I assure you, Madam, that I can take care of that myself," he tried to argue, his voice slurring considerably.

Nettie ignored him. She picked up one of the towels and quickly, yet gently, ran it over his upper body, taking special care around his injured shoulder and any of the livid bruises standing out in stark contrast to his pale skin. She left the towel around his faintly trembling shoulders after lightly running it over his hair, wary about aggravating the head wound by scrubbing too vigorously.

She pulled his boots and socks off, taking special care in removing the left as she remembered the way he had been limping. A carefully folded wad of cash dropped out of the boot as she was removing it. She picked it up, thinking that it had to be several hundred dollars. It wasn't every day she got to hold this much money in her palm. She wasn't surprised to find it, but looking at his face, she could see that he was uncomfortable about the fact that she was holding it, his fingers twitching as if he wanted to snatch it away from her but was valiantly fighting the urge. Nettie set it aside, giving it no further thought. He followed it with his eyes, staring at it even as she dropped it onto the table with his other belongings.

"I won't steal from you," she said, as if it were a perfectly normal observation.

He didn't respond, other than to clear his throat and look away from her.

She slipped the sock off, frowning at the state of him underneath the finely crafted footwear. The ankle was bruised badly and swollen. "You hurt anywhere else?" She tenderly felt around the injury and was thankful to find the bones intact.

Ezra flinched away from the tentative touch. "Nothing of consequence," he replied, teeth gritted as she felt around the bruising to his ribs. Again, she was grateful to find nothing broken.

"No sense in lying to me," Nettie warned him. With all the dirt caked on his clothes and the numerous tears, she couldn't tell for certain where else he might be hurt. "I'll find out whether you tell me or not." She wasn't surprised when he kept his mouth shut. Obstinate man.

Giving the gambler a quick look, she decided she had better do something about that head wound. Casey would be back soon so Nettie needed to get him out of the rest of his wet clothes and redressed into something dry before then. Casey had no need of seeing any man's nudity before her wedding night.

Ezra's eyes were drooping again as she finished binding his head wound. She didn't think he'd be able to stay awake for much longer. He was in a bad way, but he'd be worse off if she didn't get him dried off and into a warm bed soon.

She slid the towel from his shoulders. "I need you to stand up now, Ezra. Think you can manage that?"

That confused daze was settling into his pale eyes again. "I don't know. My ankle ... knee ... hurts." His words were soft, a murmured slur, but Nettie understood enough to know that he had been keeping further injuries from her. It didn't matter though, she'd see them all in a few moments time.

With her help, Ezra got up. He stood there unsteadily, leaning most of his weight on his right leg. His arm shot out, groping about blindly until it met the back of the chair he'd been sitting in and he held onto it with a white-knuckled grip. By the tensing of his muscles and the fact that he'd screwed his eyes tightly shut, she could see that it was taking him a great deal of effort to remain upright. This knowledge spurred her into action and she swept up the blanket Casey had brought in. Shaking it out, she threw it around Ezra, making sure it covered his shivering body completely.

Nettie watched his face as she slid her hands between the folds of the blanket. He flinched when her fingers found his belly, her touch dancing across the top edge of his trousers to find the fastenings. The material was wet and clung to him. It had to be uncomfortable. Yet, he inched away nonetheless, undoubtedly disagreeable with the notion of being bereft of clothing in her presence.

She sighed. "You are a gentleman, to be sure, Mr. Standish. But even gentlemen should know to take off their wet clothes before they get ill, and to accept help when it is needed and offered."

Ezra grimaced, his eyebrows knitted together tightly. When he spoke, his words remained delicate, yet his wit was fully intact. Perhaps the pain of standing had awakened his senses again.

"Knowing and accepting are two very different things, I assure you Mrs. Wells." He groaned, but bit back on the sound, teeth gnawing at his lower lip. "I am dismayed by my apparent weakness. However, I suppose I must acquiesce to your tender administrations." He swallowed and a deep shudder coursed the length of his body. "I don't think I will be able to remain upright for much longer. May we please hurry along my degradation so that I might be permitted a place to lie down for the night?"

Nettie ignored his continued ramblings. His accent was thicker than normal, which made it more difficult to understand him, and his voice was already weak to begin with. With the intention of getting him to bed as quickly as possible, she unfastened his trousers and let them fall around his ankles. His undergarments quickly followed. She made quick work of running the towel over him, being sure to keep the blanket wrapped around him to offer a modicum of his remaining modesty. When she was done, she dropped the damp towel into the pile of wet clothes.

He looked away from her as she slipped an arm around his waist and helped him hobble into the bedroom. His eyes never met hers as she settled him on the bed, even as he objected over his placement there. "I shall be fine with a bedroll," he'd insisted. She of course ignored him. And he continued to avoid eye contact when she found an old nightshirt of her husband's packed away in the bottom of a trunk.

She understood though. He was embarrassed by his injuries, by needing help, with the state of undress he found himself in while in the presence of a woman. To try and ease the mounting tension that hung in the air around them, she asked a question that had been plaguing her. "How'd you get yourself hurt?"

Ezra was quiet. She risked a glance at his face as she shook the nightshirt out. He was frowning intently, a look of concentration melting into confusion. "I don't remember, actually," he said after a moment. "I left Eagle Bend early. It looked like rain, and I thought I could make it back to Four Corners before the worst of it. I do remember it raining harder. After that, well, things seem a bit blurry." He raised a trembling hand, fingers brushing the bandage around his head. He winced at his own touch. He blinked a few times. "I'm feeling tired."

Nettie reached out and grasped his shoulder as he began to sway. He jerked at the touch, as if not realizing that he was in danger of falling over. "Better stay with me a mite longer," she warned. "Let's get you dressed before you go to sleep."

He merely nodded in reply. That was far more alarming to her than his mumbled and slurred speech from earlier. That he was calmly and quietly accepting her help now, was a frightening prospect.

With care, she helped him into the nightshirt, turning her back so he could remove the blanket and cover himself completely. He murmured an approval when he was ready.

When she turned, Nettie had to bit back a gasp at the sight of him. Ezra looked so much younger without all of his finery, wrapped up in a nightshirt far too large for him, like a child wearing his father's clothes. The sleeves hung long over his hands, but then her husband had been of a larger stature than Mr. Standish, broader in the shoulders, as well as a bit heavier and taller. The garment hung off of the gambler, but it would do well enough. He wasn't going to do anything but sleep in it.

The front door crashed open and Casey rushed in. She was soaked to the bone with rainwater. But then, Nettie wasn't much better off herself after running out to get Ezra earlier. They both could do with a change of clothes. Nettie wanted to see to Ezra first though.

"Casey, go on and get changed out of those wet clothes," she told her niece.

She heard the girl moving around, but didn't pay her any mind. Casey would do as told, she had no worry about that. Ezra on the other hand, could be quite ornery. If she didn't keep an eye on him, he might curl up on the floor and go to sleep, and that just wouldn't do at all.

He was leaning forward on the bed now, left arm wrapped around his middle, his other hand braced on the bed. His grip was harsh, fisting in the mattress. He needed to be lying down, not forcing himself to remain upright.

"I'm going to take a look at your knee, and then you can lie back," she said, remembering him mentioning an injury that she hadn't yet taken a look at.

Ezra shook his head, then seemed to regret it as he winced. "There's no need. It's nothing."

"I think I will be the judge of that," she retorted.

She bent to grasp the bottom of the nightshirt, and frowned even before her fingers could grip the cloth. There was blood dripping onto her floor, not a great deal of it, but enough to be alarming. She lifted the garment, following the thin trail of blood up along his bare leg until she reached his knee. "Dear Lord," she breathed, eying the damaged joint critically.

The skin around his knee was mottled with a bad bruise. But more concerning, was the wound to his flesh. There was a deep gouge on the outside of his knee. Reaching out, she pulled a fragment of jagged stone from it, a trickle of blood following it. She didn't see any more, but that didn't mean she could leave it. That wound would need to be cleaned, and probably stitched. The head wound would need better treatment as well.

"Casey! I've got a wound needs cleaning. Bring me bandages and clean water!" There was dirt in the wound, it was likely to get infected. Mud was caked around it, probably why she hadn't noticed it earlier if it had managed to staunch the blood flow. Drying him off had probably opened it up again. "And get to work making up a poultice." They generally used them on the horses when they got injured, but it worked just as well on people.

* * *

Ezra couldn't say he was completely aware of what was going on around him. His focus kept drifting, fading in and out. He knew that he was in pain, that he was hurt, and he was oh so tired. All he wanted to do was to lie down and rest, but Mrs. Wells seemed intent on keeping him from the blissful reprieve of sleep.

He didn't even recall how he had gotten to her residence. He remembered rain and riding up to her house, and falling. Then her hands on him and she and Casey helping him. Everything else remained as blurry as his vision.

Reality came crashing down around him when the pain in his leg spiked intensely. It felt as if a searing hot poker had been stabbed into his knee and was at this moment being twisted in a cruel torture. He jerked, crying out despite his attempts not to, and reached down to try and stop the violence being done to his person. His hands were caught and held by slim callused palms. He looked up, frightened and still confused. Casey stared back at him, her own eyes wide and full of worry.

"Calm yourself. Nettie's taking care of you," Casey said in a failed attempt at a soothing tone.

He became aware of the fact that he was shaking, but he couldn't seem to stop himself. He opened his mouth, then closed it again, for once in his life at a loss for words. Instead, he looked down to see what Nettie was doing and found her sewing a ghastly wound to his knee closed. A poultice followed, then bandages. The pain was fading now, leeched away by whatever remedy Nettie had applied to the injury in his knee. He was starting to feel tired again.

Casey kept hold of his hands. She was bent somewhat awkwardly, leaning over and holding his palms away from Nettie's work. It took a moment for the significance of her presence to seep through the fog surrounding his addled brain, but when it did his neck began to warm with embarrassment. That Casey was there when he was in such an abominable state of undress was humiliating. Bad enough that Nettie was there; having Casey there as well was worse indeed. If JD ever learned of this, Ezra might find himself at the wrong end of one of those twin Colts of his. Hell, Buck would probably be willing to hold him in place to make him an easier target to shoot.

He had to get out of here. "This is inappropriate," he mumbled, attempting to shift away.

Casey's hands tightened around his and Nettie braced one of her hands on his calf and her other on his thigh, an attempt on her part to keep him from moving. "Keep still," the older woman chided.

If anything, the feel of her hand grasping his thigh made him want to do the exact opposite. He'd been a fool and now these two ladies were being forced to attend to his needs. It was appalling. They shouldn't have to do this. It was all his own fault. He should be taking care of himself.

"Let go," he urged, trying once again to draw his hands away. He couldn't comprehend why he was having so much difficulty. Casey wasn't even holding on that tightly. Yet, he couldn't get her to relinquish her grip. "Kindly release my hands," Ezra said. "I will see to my own injuries."

"Nonsense," Nettie replied sharply. She efficiently wrapped a bandage around his knee and tied it off. "Be easier if you'd tell me where else you're hurting so you can get to sleep."

Ezra frowned in thought. He didn't want to burden Mrs. Wells with more work. But the lure of sleep was too sweet a temptation to resist. He wanted the oblivion that came with unconsciousness. To be asleep and unaware of all the aches and pains plaguing his body sounded very much like heaven at the moment.

"Nothing of any consequence," Ezra tried, flashing a watery smile that was meant to be charming.

Fingers gripped his chin and turned his head. The world spun alarmingly. He let out a low groan, his empty stomach flipping unpleasantly. He swallowed the saliva filling his mouth, worried that he may retch.

"Ezra!"

He blinked repeatedly, suddenly becoming aware that Nettie was speaking to him. He hadn't heard her. Her face was a blurry swirl in front of him. "I'm sorry," he apologized, trying to keep his senses while the world around him twisted and turned. "Were you saying something?"

Nettie released his chin and slid her hand up and over his cheek. "You're starting to feel warm," she murmured. Then in a louder voice, she asked, "Are you hurt anywhere else?"

"I don't ... I'm not-" he broke off, not sure of anything anymore. With resignation, he admitted, "Everything seems to hurt."

"Well, let's get you lying down," Nettie advised. To Casey, she said, "Help him."

Hands guided him. He didn't know whose were where. One of them wrapped an arm around his shoulders, another hand supporting his head. The other set of hands swung his legs up onto the bed, keeping his left leg straight as he was shifted around. Despite his best efforts to hang on to awareness, he was asleep before his head touched the pillow.

* * *

_To Be Continued ..._

* * *

_Note: Information on concussions came from wikipedia, so if I'm wrong, I'm sorry._


	3. Chapter 3

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Magnificent Seven, or any of its characters. I am making no money from this._

_Notes: Nettie and Casey take turns watching over Ezra._

* * *

**_Never A Burden_**

**_Part Three_**

* * *

Standing beside the bed, Nettie looked down on her guest with worry. Ezra was sleeping, but it wasn't peaceful. He moved about fitfully, head thrashing from side to side, his arms raising and lowering as if trying to reach out for something only he could see.

With a sigh, she drew the blankets up and over him. He moaned weakly as she placed a hand against his face, jerking away from the gentle touch. His skin was too warm for her liking.

"Is he going to be all right?" Casey asked anxiously.

"I don't know," Nettie answered honestly. She went to get herself a change of clothes. There was no need to let herself get sick when they already had to worry about Ezra. A loud peal of thunder made her pause. "In the morning, so long as the storm is broken by then, I want you to ride out to town. I have a feeling he's gonna need more doctoring than I can offer. Stay with him. I'm going to get out of these wet clothes."

"Yes, Nettie," Casey nodded. She stepped closer to the bed, fidgeting nervously before she sat on the very edge.

Nettie went into the other room, trusting her niece to watch over the injured and sick gambler for a few minutes. She changed out of her wet clothes and went about tidying up. Picking up Ezra's clothes, she hung them out to dry, doing her best to salvage his fine boots. Then she finished cleaning up the remains of the evening meal. When the front room was cleaned to her satisfaction, she blew out the lights and returned to the bedroom.

"Better get some sleep while you can, Casey," she advised. She had a feeling that Ezra would be having a rough night.

Casey grabbed a pillow from the bed and found herself a place to sleep on the floor. "What about you?" she asked, shaking out a blanket.

"Someone needs to keep a watch over him. We'll take it in turns. I'll wake you in a few hours." With that, Nettie settled in for what promised to be a long night.

* * *

She was disheartened, but not surprised, when her prediction proved true. Ezra spent most of the night moaning and shaking, battling with the inner demons of his fevered imaginings. At times, he seemed to wake, but it became clear quickly that he wasn't seeing his surroundings as they really were. He was lost in some dream, or perhaps the past. In either case, his delirious ramblings worried her.

She had been called by no less than six different names, all with the honorific 'Aunt' placed before them. It made Nettie wonder just how often Ezra had been left in the care of others, if his mother wasn't the first woman he sought out while in the throes of sickness. Each time he spoke, he begged her pardon, for encumbering her with his plight. Apologetic and trying to rise, to go off and see to his own care without bothering anyone else. What kind of an upbringing had he had, if he saw himself as a burden when he needed help? Had many of those aunts cast him aside when he became too troublesome? Had his mother done the same? Nettie didn't know the woman, but so far she didn't like what she could piece together about her.

She placed the back of her hand to his cheek, pretending not to notice the way he flinched away from her touch. It felt as if there was a fire burning under his skin; he was terribly hot. There wasn't much she could do about it except try to keep him comfortable and cool. She knew a few remedies, but she was reluctant to wake him just to swallow down some tea. He needed rest most of all. In a bit, she'd make some, but for now, she wanted him to sleep.

Nettie plucked up the damp cloth she had laid over his brow earlier. It was warm now, so she exchanged it for another that she'd left soaking in a basin of water on a table beside the bed. She wrung out the excess wetness and dabbed the cool cloth to feverish skin, hoping to soothe him.

The touch seemed to rouse Ezra somewhat and fever-bright green eyes flicked over in her general direction. He blinked, but no clarity seemed to enter his glazed eyes. Licking his lips, he spoke, his words a weak and slurred mumble, "I feel that I must ask that you excuse me for my infirmity ... Aunt ... Aunt," he wavered, blinking and trying to focus on her face. "I'm sorry, I can't seem to recall your name. Most discourteous of me, I assure you. But Mother does leave me with so many relations." He frowned, eyebrows drawing together. "I'm not feeling so well."

Not wanting to agitate him, she continued to dab away at his face and neck before folding the cloth and laying it over his forehead, just below the bandage she had applied earlier. "Don't worry yourself none, Ezra, just rest up."

Ezra shook his head, dislodging the damp cloth and causing it to slide away. "No," he said, fisting his hands in the bedding. "I've been enough of an inconvenience." He struggled to push himself up, panting before he could even make it halfway. "I don't want to be any more of a burden on you."

With very little effort, she pushed him back down. Any words of reassurance she wanted to say remained unspoken. He had already fallen back into unconsciousness, pale murmurs escaping his lips every now and again. Nettie replaced the damp cloth over his fevered brow and carded her fingers through the gambler s sweaty hair. Despite the lack of an audience, Nettie felt she still had to say what was on her mind. "You will never be a burden in this house, Ezra Standish."

* * *

Dawn broke after an eternity. At least it seemed that way to Casey, who sat at Ezra's side trying to offer whatever help she could. So far, she didn't feel like she was doing much of anything to ease his suffering. His fever raged on despite the cooling cloths and medicinal tea Nettie had cooked up halfway through the night. Casey grimaced at the thought of that brew. Willow bark tea was a vile concoction. Without honey or sugar to sweeten it, it was just horrible. She never liked drinking it herself, although she couldn't deny that it did help. That proved to Casey just how sick Ezra was. To tolerate drinking that tea with no bitter remarks, or even a reflexive look of disgust, he must be terribly ill.

Nothing seemed to be helping. In fact, the Southerner looked worse than ever. His skin was waxy and pale and dark shadows had begun to show under his eyes. He looked tired even while he slept. Then again, it wasn't a restful sleep. He tossed and turned fitfully, his body shaking near-constantly. Frail words fluttered from his lips, too softly to be understood.

Sighing, Casey set the backs of her fingers to Ezra's cheek, feeling the blaze under his skin. The effect of her touch was immediate. Ezra gave a gasp, his eyelids flickering open a sliver. His hollow gaze turned on her, but who knew what he was really seeing anymore. He'd rambled on deliriously for most of the time she'd been watching over him, and probably for as long as Nettie had been sitting at his side too.

He looked at her now, licking at his chapped lips. "Has the storm passed us over yet, cousin?" he asked, his voice weak and tired.

Casey sighed and plucked one of the cloths out of the waiting bowl of cool water. She rung it out and began to run it over his face and down his neck, trying to cool his heated skin. "Where do you think you are now, Ezra?" she wondered aloud. The last time he'd been awake he'd called her Aunt Eugenia and had apologized for breaking some vase of hers. The words he'd used and cracking tone of voice had her convinced that Aunt Eugenia wasn't the forgiving type. The way he'd flinched away from her touch only a moment later sealed those thoughts in her mind and made her wonder if he'd stayed with that Aunt or others like her very often.

A furrow creased his forehead as he considered her words, trying to understand her. "We're in Louisiana. Houma. Mother dropped me off last month." He licked his lips again. "I'm sure she'll be back for me soon." He didn't sound all that convinced of his own words.

A loud rumble of thunder made the gambler flinch. He gave a gasp. His widening eyes conveyed fear, but no comprehension as to his actual surroundings.

Casey lightly touched his chin, trying to turn him her way. She wasn't sure she was doing the right thing, wasn't sure of anything at all. She only knew that she didn't like that look of terror in his eyes. "What's my name?" she asked him, trying to get his focus on her.

He blinked, eyes darting around wildly before coming to rest on her. "Nadine. C-Cousin Nadine." Ezra lifted a hand and shakily tucked a few strands of fly-away hair behind her ear. "I'm sorry you got saddled with caring for your ill relation. A lovely young woman such as yourself must have many suitors clamoring for a ghost of attention."

Casey blushed. She grabbed his wrist and tucked his hand back under the blankets. "Lie back and rest now," she said.

Another boom of thunder had Ezra abruptly upright. "The house, it'll collapse!" he announced. He turned, grabbing at Casey's shoulders with a shaking grip. "You need to get out of here, Nadine. It's not safe!"

His shouting woke Nettie and the two women struggled to get him settled back into bed. He was sure the house would come crashing down around them. "We'll be fine," Nettie tried, prying one of his hands off of Casey.

"No, no." He shook his head, face ashen. "Nadine...Aunt Corrine, we're not safe here. The house will fall." He paused, blinking repeatedly and there was a subtle shift in the pale green eyes. "It did fall. The wind and the rain, it was too much. Everything came down around us. I don't understand."

"I assure you that my house is sound," Nettie said. "It's withstood worse storms than this."

Ezra narrowed his eyes, attention solely on her. "Mrs. Wells?"

"You're sick, Ezra, and confused. Lie back and rest. We'll take care of you."

"I don't understand," he repeated. "I thought you were Aunt Corrine." He sank back to the bed, allowing the two women to guide his way. He bonelessly slumped back into the bedding. He looked around blearily, eyelids beginning to droop again. "I don't understand."

Nettie let out a long breath. She looked to the window, eying the weather outside. The rain had eased off during the night, but it hadn't stopped. Nor did it look like it would be stopping any time soon.

Worry niggled at the back of Casey's mind and she couldn't help asking one of her concerns. "What happened to your Aunt Corrine?" she inquired softly. She couldn't look at Nettie, expecting to see an expression of reproach on the older woman's face for bothering the ill man. She looked at Ezra instead, trying to catch his dwindling focus. "And your cousin Nadine?"

"House was ruined," Ezra said with a haunted voice and a frail smile. "They moved to Virginia. A relative was kind enough to take them in." The fragile smile crumbled. "No room for me though. Never is. They couldn't find mother."

Nettie was checking the bandage around his knee, but from her expression Casey knew that she was absorbing every word the gambler said. Unthinkingly, Casey ran her fingers through his sweaty hair, trying to offer some form of consolation for the long-past pain he had suffered.

He rolled his head toward her, pale eyes barely cracked open. "If the house falls, will you send me away, too? I didn't like the orphanage. The beds were hard and it was so cold. The hospital was better. Nurses were nice to me."

"Hospital?"

Nettie threw the blankets back over Ezra's leg. "Enough of that, Casey. Let him go back to sleep." She moved around Casey and leaned over Ezra, checking his head wound. "Don't you worry about being sent away. It ain't happening." She patted his cheek.

Ezra murmured something, but Casey couldn't understand. Then his eyes slid the rest of the way closed and his body relaxed into unconsciousness again.

"I don't think he's doing so well, Nettie," Casey hissed, watching the slumbering gambler. "His fever's up and he kept tossing and turning all night."

"He's a stubborn cuss. He'll be all right," Nettie replied with conviction. She smoothed out the blankets over Ezra. "You go on now and get to your chores. I'll get breakfast started. Maybe we can coax some into him."

"Yes, Nettie." She stood up and headed for the door. Standing in the doorway, she turned back, fingers gripping the wooden frame. "Should I ride for town?"

Nettie glanced over at the window again. "Still coming down strong. We'll give it a few hours." Ezra moaned, tossing his head to the side. Nettie placed her hand on his head, fingers sifting through the damp hair. She gave her niece a reassuring smile. "Don't worry none. He won't be giving up on us. We won't let him."

Placated, Casey nodded. She still wasn't too sure about Ezra's health, but she did know that Nettie would do everything she could to take care of him. They both would.

* * *

_To Be Continued ..._


	4. Chapter 4

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Magnificent Seven, or any of its characters. I am making no money from this._

_Notes: Casey worries and then worries some more before she can go for help._

* * *

**Never A Burden**

**Part Four**

* * *

It was past noon before Casey was able to ride out. The rain wasn't coming down hard, but the wind had picked up, making it look worse than it actually was. Still, Nettie was reluctant to send her out in it and Casey could understand why. One misstep and she could end up sick and hurt like Ezra, or worse.

She had completed her morning chores with a pit of worry settled in her belly. She wanted to go get Nathan. She didn't like doing nothing while Ezra suffered. It wasn't right.

Breakfast had been eaten under a tense silence. When she was done, Nettie handed her a bowl and told her to try and get Ezra to eat some. Casey looked down at the contents. Porridge. Well, she supposed it would be easier for him to swallow than eggs and chops.

She walked into the room and had to sigh at the sight of the gambler. He was sitting up in bed, his legs dangling over the edge. The blankets had been pushed away, but they were twisted about his right leg. He was trying to untangle himself, but only seemed to be making it worse.

"We can't leave you alone for five minutes, can we, Ezra?" Casey asked softly. She set the bowl down and rushed to his side. "Lie yourself down," she urged, grasping him by the shoulders.

He jerked away, his body shaking under her touch. He blinked up at her, then went back to tugging at the blankets wound around his leg. "I'm running late," he murmured. I'll miss the train. Mother's expecting me in St. Louis."

Casey untangled the blanket. "You're sick, Ezra. You shouldn't be going anywhere."

"Am I?" Ezra asked, sounding genuinely surprised. "Mother won't be pleased with the inconvenience."

Casey didn't much like the sound of that. She helped him to recline and fixed the blankets over him. "I've brought you something to eat," she said, deciding to change the subject.

"I'm not hungry," he murmured. He closed his eyes and turned his head away from her.

She picked up the bowl anyway. "You should eat. It'll help you, keep you strong."

He opened his eyes, looking less than thrilled by the prospect of eating. He tried to reach for the bowl, but his hands shook too much to hold it. When Casey offered, he accepted her help graciously. He was nothing if not polite.

"Mush," he grumbled after the first spoonful. He turned his face away from the second.

Casey couldn't lie and say she didn't understand his feelings on the meal. She'd never been fond of porridge herself. But a meal was a meal and Ezra needed to eat. "Have a little more. Please?" she tried.

Ezra didn't verbally respond, but he did open his mouth when she held the next spoonful to his lips. He looked far from pleased as he chewed and swallowed. The displeased looked remained on his face with each mouthful. It wasn't long before he stopped again. He pushed her hand and the spoon away, shaking his head. "Can't," he murmured.

Casey looked down into the bowl and sighed. She would have liked it if he'd eaten more, but she didn't have the heart to try and force it down his throat. When she looked back up at Ezra, he was already half-asleep where he lay, propped up against the pillows behind his back.

She set the bowl aside and helped him to ease down to lie properly. Ezra closed his eyes and was asleep within moments. With another sigh, Casey tentatively set her hand on his forehead, and winced at the heat she felt. The fever worried her, as did his inability to focus on the present. He'd wanted to go meet a train to see his mother in St. Louis, but there weren't any stations near here. The closest one was in Ridge City and that was a good few hours away. He was only just coming back from Eagle Bend according to what Nettie had said. She didn't think he was supposed to be meeting any train. It must be something he'd had to do in the past and she wondered just how young he'd been and if he'd been traveling alone. She wouldn't ask though. It wasn't any of her business.

"Did he eat?" Nettie's voice came from behind her.

Casey nodded. "Yes, but not much. Barely half."

"Better than nothing. Come on, you can help with the cleaning until the weather clears."

"Yes, Aunt Nettie."

Casey set about completing the tasks Nettie set out for her, using the chores to keep herself busy. She tried to distract herself from worrying about the gambler. But her attention was constantly diverted to the bedroom every time Nettie went in to check on their ill guest, and again, each time the older woman would cross to the other side of the room to peer out the window at the storm outside.

Just when Casey was about to give in to her frustrations and ride out whether or not Nettie said it was safe, Nettie called out to her. "I don't like sending you out in this, but go on. The wind has died down some and the rain let up."

Casey was grabbing her jacket and rushing out of the door almost before Nettie finished talking. Finally, she felt as if she were doing some good, being of use. Better than just sitting around and watching Ezra suffer. She felt so helpless every time he mumbled out for people who weren't there, talking to aunts and cousins only he could see in his fevered dreams. It still haunted her that he had never once called for his mother's help in all that time. Had the woman ever been there for him when he needed her?

She saddled her horse in record time and was riding for town before she realized it herself. Despite her distraction, she wasn't fool enough to race there. She'd only end up getting herself hurt if she rushed. Ezra wouldn't get the help he needed if she were in an accident. She rode as fast as she felt safe to, perhaps a bit too fast for the state of the trails, but she had good reason to.

The rain was a lazy drizzle when she got to town. The streets were empty. Without thinking, she went to the first place that came to mind. She dropped down off her horse and mindlessly tethered the animal to the hitching post before running into the saloon. All eyes turned to her as she burst through the bat-wing doors and she cast her eyes about wildly. The saloon was busy for this time of day, perhaps because of the weather. She saw four familiar men sitting around one of the tables, but not the one she was looking for.

Casey ran over to those men, hoping one of them would have an answer to her question. Before she could speak, the youngest of the group stood and called her name with a look of worry on his face.

"Not now, JD," she snapped, then took a gulp of much needed air. "Where's Nathan?"

This got the attention of the rest of them. Vin sat up a little straighter. "You okay, Casey? It's not Nettie is it? She sick?"

Casey waved her hands, shaking her head negatively at the same time. "No, no we're fine." She swallowed. "But Ezra ain't."

Chris Larabee didn't so much as shift a finger. "Ezra? He's in Eagle Bend with Buck." He threw back the shot of whiskey he'd been holding.

"No, he's not. Came riding up to the house last night, shouting for help. It looked like he'd taken a nasty fall during the storm. Nettie had to stitch up his leg and he's got a wound on his head. He's been sick with fever all night," she said, all in one breath. "Where's Nathan? Nettie sent me to get him."

"He's not here," Josiah said. "He left the day before yesterday to check on the Seminole village. Not due back for another day yet."

Casey groaned in disbelief and frustration. She'd wanted to get help for Ezra, but there was no help to be had here. Nathan was gone. What was she supposed to do now?

* * *

**To Be Continued ...**


End file.
